PigHeaded
by Seereth
Summary: [Star-Bearer trilogy. Blink-and-you'll-miss-it femslash.] In which Tristan says "oh" a lot, Raederle understands, and Eliard is really kind of obtuse.


Pig-Headed

Tristan makes it four years after Morgon – well, after Morgon –

She still can't wrap her mind all the way round it.

Anyway, she makes it four years, when three months past her seventeenth birthday Eliard turns to her over dinner and asks her why she's not married.

"I'm only seventeen," she says. She hopes her eyes don't turn wild and start rolling like a frightened horses. She's pretty sure they don't – Eliard would have noticed.

"I know," says Eliard. "Why aren't you married?"

Tristan quickly dismisses the truth as an excuse. So she avoids the question. "Why aren't _you?_"

And that keeps him quiet for a few more months.

But one month before Tristan's eighteenth birthday, Eliard brings home a tall woman from the west side of Hed. "My sister Tristan," Eliard says. "Tristan, this is Murine. I'm going to marry her."

"Oh!" says Tristan in a very small voice. "Well."

Murine is tall and has black hair and eyes and her hands have plows and gardens in them, but not spears or crowns. She smiles at Tristan, and looks completely, absolutely normal. "I must be something of a let-down, after your first sister-in-law."

"Oh!" Tristan says again. "No. Actually, you're my first sister-in-law. Technically. They still won't get married. Anyway, I'm glad you're not part shape-shifter and are going to be instrumental in – what I mean," she says, "is that I couldn't have survived Raederle all over again."

Murine laughs, to her credit. Tristan relaxes, and Eliard is busy being a newlywed for another six months. Tristan's luck runs out eventually.

"I think it's about time you - " Eliard begins.

"I don't want to."

"Oh." He chews thoughtfully, fruitlessly, on a piece of gristle. "Why not?"

"Don't, darling," Murine says unexpectedly.

So Eliard doesn't.

She sees Raederle for the first time in forever – or two years – at their well. The second most beautiful woman in An is looking thoughtfully into the water. "Do you think," Raederle asks, "that it is relaxing down there?"

Tristan considers that. "It's probably boring. With a high risk of being hit on the head with buckets. Do you and Morgon want to live in a well?"

"Well," Raederle says, smirking," we might give it a try." She starts to braid her hair, looking at Tristan from under her eyebrows. "Eliard says you don't want to get married."

"Eliard's right," Tristan tells her.

"Mmm," Raederle says slowly. "Neither does Lyra. It's making El nervous."

"Lyra has to get married," Tristan says. "It doesn't matter if I don't."

"Yes," says Raederle patiently, "but they're starting to blame me."

"Oh," says Tristan.

"Because Morgon and I haven't, and we spent all that time on the boats."

"Oh."

"I said I'd talk to you."

Tristan nods. "Yes."

"But maybe you should talk to each other."

"Oh – _oh_," Tristan says. "It might work."

Raederle smiles at her. "I know something about brothers, you see."

"I want to go to Herun," Tristan tells Eliard over dinner. Raederle smiles encouragingly at her over a spoonful of soup.

"Why?" asks Eliard.

His expression is so mystified, so helpless, Tristan almost changes her mind. "Because," she says.

Almost.

(She remembers a dark haired, stubborn young woman is all. Eliard is really no match for the land-heir of Herun.)

"It might be good for her," says Raederle.

Eliard was never any good at standing up to Raederle. Murine, to her credit, doesn't seem to mind Eliard's immunity to Raederle when she wants to remind them that she is both the second most beautiful woman in An and the Star-bearer's…something.

"If you think it would," he says.

"I'll go with her," Raederle offers, smiling at Tristan again.

"Thank you," says Tristan.

"Nghhh," Eliard informs them eloquently.

This time, Tristan is the one smiling. A private smile.

"Just remember," says Raederle when their ship docks, "that 'pig-headed' is not a word that can be readily applied to Herun. Hed and An, perhaps. But not Herun."

She reaches across and squeezes Tristan's shoulder. "Good luck."

* * *

A/N: This is sadly unbetaed, and I apologize. I did my best proof-reading on my own. But, well, that's never very good.

Disclaimer: The characters used in this story are the property of Patricia McKillip and her lawyers. I expect they (characters, author, and lawyers) are very relieved to know this..


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